


Speechless

by arituzz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz's fantasies, Cat got your tongue, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The silence of your enemy is better than their words. Because sometimes, silence speaks louder than your voice.</p><p>(8th Year AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speechless

**BAZ**

Lips on lips. Fighting. Violently kissing. Our tongues clashing as much as in our usual verbal quarrels.

My hand tightly gripping bronze curls. Dragging him closer.

My body against his. Rocking in rhythm.

“That’s what happens when you are mindless enough to fight with your roommate,” Ms. Possibelf scowls at us.

Fuck Ms. Possibelf. I don’t want to be put out of my fantasy yet.

I take off his shirt. Kiss every mole on his back and torso.

“There is a reversing spell. But you will wait two days to have it. Take it as punishment.”

“Having him as a roommate is punishment enough,” I’d tell her if Snow hadn’t spelled us both mute. “Now, let me continue mind-fucking him.” Okay, _that_ I wouldn’t tell her.

Snow only nods.

My eyes settle on his lips, slightly parted. Ready to be kissed.

My mind takes yet another step and takes off his pants. Always so eager for a naked Snow.

“Do you agree, Mr. Pitch?”

Alright. Fine. Naked Snow will have to wait.

I nod. Is there any way for me to disagree?

Ms. Possibelf sends us back to our room. “Maybe I should have **_cat got your tongue_** ’d you both from the first day,” she says before we leave. “If your voice weren’t the first requisite to cast magic,” she continues. “Now off you go.”

We make it to our room, after a long, awkward walk, accompanied by an over-dramatic battle of hateful glances at each other. Which continues once we get in. And even after changing into our pyjamas.

Snow looks at me and his eyes say “hate”.

I look at him and my eyes say “I want you to see hate but I really can’t look at you any other way than full of bloody infatuation”.

We stay like this, silently fighting, until he falls asleep. I watch him until I drowse off into sleep, too.

—

Every morning I imagine myself walking the three steps that separate me from Snow, who’s standing with his back at me, reaching for his uniform in the wardrobe.

One step.

My eyes fixed on the movement of his shoulder blades.

Two steps.

I feel every fiber of my body vibrating with readiness.

Three steps.

I hug him from behind and rest my chin on his shoulder. He smells like homemade cinnamon buns. My mouth is right beside his ear, and I whisper: “Shall I help you undress?”

The sole thought sends shivers down my spine.

But I’m still on my bed, watching him. Tempted to make my fantasy true, at last.

I take one step. (I really do.)

I’ll tell him. I will. I swear I will.

I take another step.

I’ll smell his hair before I kiss him. Then I’ll say “I love you, Simon Snow.”

I move my foot to take the final step towards the vivid image of both my sweetest dreams and scariest nightmares, when I remember. I don’t have a voice.

And, he hates me.

Snow picks this precise moment to turn around. We are only half a step apart. It should be so easy to meet his lips with mine. And push him against the wardrobe.

But it’s so hard.

His eyes are sending questions at me. He thinks I’m going to hurt him, but I only want to kiss him.

I take another step. And another one. And another, until I’m inside the bathroom. All I do is lose.

—

I always thought Snow’s process of thinking would be rather non-existent, but it’s actually a mishmash of erratic words.

He may be voiceless, but I can see his thoughts all over the room. I mean, literally. Snow’s inner monologue float in the air in messy handwriting.

Maybe Bunce has cast “ _ **see what I think**_ ” on him. Or maybe it’s a side effect of his own magic. You can never know with him.

He’s been all day avoiding me, even though he knows I can’t cast magic against him. Or insult him. And all _because of_ him.

Trust Snow to come up with a way of making your life yet more miserable, even when you thought that wasn’t possible. (Because making fun of him is one of the only pleasures I indulge myself in.)

Among all the jumble I can only grasp a few—very few—coherent sentences:

_What the fuck is Baz thinking?_

_What is he plotting?_

_Why is he looking at me like that?_

_Is he going to try to kill me now that I can’t cast magic?_

I knew Snow was dumb, only now I see to what extent.

_Fucking Baz_

_I hate Baz so much_

_Why do I have to share a room with Baz?_

_Baz_

It looks like my name is a constant in Snow’s thoughts. Just as much as he is in mine. Yet with a different connotation.

For a second, I imagine Snow thinking “I want to kiss him”.

Only, it’s not my imagination. It’s there, floating in the air, in his awful handwriting. _What?_

Does he even see it? Does he even _know_ what he’s thinking?

He looks completely oblivious.

He’s on his bed, still dressed in his uniform, looking at his pyjama like it had all the answers to every mystery in the world.

“Who do you want to kiss?” I want to ask him. “I want to kiss you,” I want to say. But I’m speechless. (And not just because of the spell.)

Snow turns his head around and catches me staring. But I can’t look away. Not after that thought.

His eyes settle on mine. Mine flicker to his lips.

I want to kiss him.

I step out of the bed and take one step forward. The only one that needs to be taken to be right before Snow.

I can feel his blood vessels dilating. His blood flowing frantically. I can hear his heart beating against his ribcage.

I can feel the air travelling in and out of his mouth. His lips parted again. (Mouth breather.)

Well, I hope he can breathe through the nose, too. For I’m willing to block his main source of air with my mouth.

I’m going to do it.

But then, all I can see are hands reaching for my head and pulling at me. And next, Snow’s mouth clashes against mine.

He pushes me, so I push back. He tilts his head and lets me kiss him deeper.

We’re on his bed. My hands travel from his back to his hair and settle there, entwining my fingers with his unruly curls.

His lips reach my jaw, tracing the lines of my ear to my collarbone. I open my mouth to let out a moan but nothing comes out of it.

_Soft skin_

_Feels good_

_So good_

Snow’s thoughts float around us, surrounding us like a magickal blanket.

He kisses every spot of my body until his lips are sore.

I bury my nose in his hair and lose myself in the scent of Simon Snow until we both fall asleep.

—

The next day I wake up in Snow’s arms. But I close my eyes again, thinking it’s a dream.

When I open them again, he’s still there. Snoring ungracefully. Definitely not a dream.

His thoughts are gone, but he’s here. And I’m not letting him go.

—

Dating Simon Snow hasn’t featured as much nakedness as my mind had always pictured. But we do kiss a lot.

I have my voice back, obviously. But kissing Simon Snow still renders me speechless.

We still communicate better without words. Snow’s face is like an open book, like his thoughts. Easy to read, once you get used to it.

I prefer to express my feelings with my mouth. Against his. Telling him what my words can’t.

-FIN-


End file.
